


Wolf ˈShitē

by zoemack10



Category: Schitt's Creek, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison is a Stilinski, Allison is the wild child, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe-Schitt's Creek, Best Friends, Chris Argent is Not Allison Argent's Parent, Claudia Stilinski Lives, Drunken Shenanigans, Everyone Is Alive, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love confessions via 80's duet, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Multi, Schitt's Creek - Freeform, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Stiles Stilinski Wears Glasses, scott and isaac are brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24334435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemack10/pseuds/zoemack10
Summary: !It's Teen Wolf but told in the tune of Schitt's Creek!The Stilinskis lose everything after the CFO of Noah Stilinski's advertising firm is caught embezzling and misleading the share holders. With nowhere to go, and none of their inner circle offering help, the Stilinski's head back to Noah's unfortunately named hometown in northern California, Wolf ˈShitē. Here they attempt to acclimate to living within their (lack of) means and end up becoming #blessed thanks to the people who reside in the ˈShitē-hole.If you like Schitt's Creek, and you like Teen Wolf, this is the niche fic for you.
Relationships: Allison Argent & Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Chris Argent/Melissa McCall, Claudia Stilinski/Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. It's Pronounced Shi-Tay

“I’m sorry, did you just say we’re moving to a town named after literal dog shit ?” Stiles asks, his inflection acrid. 

“It’s not named after dog shit.” Replies Stiles’ father, attempting to quell his son’s panic. 

“It’s named after wolves...and a family who hunted them…the name is French, I think. C’mon Stiles I thought you loved France when we went for your bar mitzvah!” 

“Yeah that had less to do with the beauty that is the French atmosphere and more to do with the fact that you got Jared Leto to perform.” Stiles sarcastically retorts as he attempts to shove all the clothes he can into his duffel bag. Seriously, how many plaid skirts and leather sweaters does one 30 year old man need?

Noah closes his eyes and sighs. He looks around at their home, well...their home for the next few hours. The space once adorned with Stiles’ pretentious art collections, Claudia’s sculptures, and photos of Allison traversing the globe with a shocking amount of grammy award winning artists, was now just an ugly beige room. 

The color looked pallid and sickly now that there was nothing there.

“Allison can you ask your mother who chose the color of these walls?”   
“Why would I ask mom about the color of the walls? This isn’t even our house anymore.” Allison replied, not even bothering to look up from her phone.

“Because I wanna know who picked this god awful color!” Noah shouted, mostly at nobody, kind of at himself.

“Oh sweetie Noah you picked that color right after you landed VP at your firm.” His wife said as she struts by him wearing a long black wig down to her knees that could give Cher a run for her money.

Claudia walks into the large family room, now only decorated in plastic tarps and cardboard boxes. She awkwardly leans against the wall in her 6 inch dagger-like pumps after realizing there is nothing but the floor to sit on. 

It was never really a family room if Noah thought about it, considering how little the Stilinskis actually spent together. 

Noah sighs. “I...guess you’re right. The decorator said taupe was timeless.”

Noah slowly turns and faces away from his disappointed family, gazing at the empty hall before him.

“Even the piano, Noah. They even took my beautiful perfect pearl piano.” Claudia bemoans. 

“Mom, you never even played it. You locked the keys shut because you found the tone too shrill.” Allison points out using air quotes around the word shrill, once again managing to only make eye contact with her screen during the interaction.

“Yes well it was still my piano, Allison! They should have done the courtesy of leaving it with me after they took all of my other belongings.” 

“You mean our belongings.” Stiles butts in. 

Claudia ignores her son’s response, instead leaning on the no-longer-existent piano, having a flashback to a coke-fueled 90s Christmas Party. 

The grand piano that once sat in the front of the magnificent hall, a performance all on its own, was now gone. None of them played, but Noah bought it for Stiles after they saw Elton John at Staples Center for his 17th birthday. The piano sat in the same spot for almost 15 years, only being used as a place to set down your gin and tonic during Claudia’s extravagant parties. 

Stiles turns to his mother once again, attempting to pull her out of her fantasy. 

“And where exactly would you have fit your precious grand, hm?” 

Stiles looked out the large window at the front of the house and gestured to the one small moving truck that sat on their lawn. Yes Stiles had driven it straight onto the lawn. It wasn’t their house anymore, someone else would take care of it. 

The truck was stuffed to the brim with what was only a small fraction of Allison’s designer closet, Claudia’s art supplies and wigs, and Stiles’ rare book and vinyl collection. In the end, all Noah managed to wedge into the truck were his suits, and a framed picture of him and his mother on the day of his father’s funeral.

Like almost everything else in the house, the piano was just a prop. An object to be seen and not heard. Something to stand next to while Noah schmoozed the assholes on the board at his advertising firm or something for Allison to hide under after she had a bad trip on magic mushrooms she got from a Saudi Arabian prince.

In the end, like everything else, the piano was just collateral. 

“Well kids, I guess it’s time we head out.” Noah said gently.

“Noah, you’re driving right? I would but I’ve already taken my Ambien and you know how much my hand eye coordination suffers.” 

Claudia asked the question while walking out the front door, not even waiting for an answer before gracefully hopping into the cab of the truck, already wearing her silk eye mask and neck pillow.

“Stiles, can you drive the rental? The thought of driving a Honda CR-V just makes me think of when I got lost with Chelsea Clinton on the way out of Coachella after she “lost” our VIP passes. Please Stiles, please?” Allison’s voice becoming more and more whiny, knowing the way to win Stiles over was to annoy him into submission. 

“Yes I will drive us to Dog Shit, USA in a Honda CR-V.” Stiles lamented. “Wow I really didn’t like hearing those words come out of my veneer adorned mouth.” 

“Ew, Stiles! That’s so gross! Dad, are you really making us move to Dog Shit?” Allison pleaded, finally looking up from her phone now that the situation at hand affected her. 

“No, honey.” Noah sighed looking out over his cobblestone driveway for the last time.

“It’s pronounced Shi-tay.”


	2. Do You Have Any Suites Available?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah and Claudia make it to the town of Wolf 'Shitē, and come face to face with their new landlord.

Driving north from Los Angeles to the hole in the mountain town that was Wolf ˈShitē only took about 8 hours, Noah manning the small U-Haul up front and Stiles and Allison in the rental Honda behind. 

The cab of the truck was absolutely silent aside from the staticky radio, the jumbling of their belongings, and Claudia intermittently shouting out nonsense while she remained completely unconscious.

With just Claudia’s sleep shouting beside him to listen to, it felt as if nothing had changed. As if they hadn’t lost their savings, their income, their house, their everything.

Around the half-way mark, Noah realized Stiles and Allison were no longer following behind the U-Haul. He thinks to himself, just take one step at a time, get to Wolf ˈShitē, and then find his missing children.

In the early evening, the sun barely starting to set, Noah spots the exit sign for Wolf ˈShitē. Equal parts thankful to get out of the truck, and dreading what his life would be once his feet hit the ground. Being confined to the cab of the truck the last 8 hours had semi-successfully kept the situation from becoming reality. 

He didn’t talk about his childhood with the kids, or with anyone really, but he had grown up in Wolf ˈShitē. Lived there until he was 18. The second he got his acceptance letter to UCLA, he was packed and ready to leave it all behind.

His father Elias never thought much of the town. Always talking about how much better he was than the people who lived there. How he was going to get them out someday. Get a great job and move them to a big city where they could live in a mansion and never have worries again. Noah’s dad died before he could ever make good on those promises. 

So Noah went to UCLA, graduated top of his class, and made VP at his advertising firm before he was 30. On top of that, he met and married beautiful and eccentric artist Claudia Gajos, now Stilinski. 

After they got hitched, Claudia created and starred in her own tv show called “Art by the Bay”. She would come on for an hour a week and create something beautiful for her audience. 

Sometimes it was painting, sometimes it was sculpting, sometimes she would just talk while throwing darts at balloons full of paint. Whatever she did, people loved Mrs. S. 

The show gained a cult following after it was cancelled. Claudia claimed she left to pursue more serious art endeavors, but Noah knew the truth. The network had told her she needed to bring in something different to appeal to a younger audience (aka you are getting too old to be a woman on television). 

For 27 years Noah gave every ounce of energy he had to his firm. Working during lunch, staying until past midnight, never coming in later than 7:00 AM. He had never even taken a sick day. In fact, he never took any time off, even to see the birth of his two children. 

Now the firm was gone, their money was gone, everything was gone. All because the CFO Randy Dinkleberg was a prick who misled the shareholders and made off with billions. Last Noah heard, the FBI had tracked Randy to South America but didn’t manage to catch the guy.

Once news broke of the Stilinskis losing their livelihood, everyone in their circle seemed to have disappeared. Not a word from any of them. No sympathy, no gestures, and no help moving forward. The people that they had been vacationing with in Lake Tahoe for the last 15 years, were suddenly strangers.

The only person who reached out, was one Melissa Delgado, except now she was Melissa McCall. 

Melissa and Noah had grown up in Wolf ˈShitē together, attached at the hip since they met in the sandbox that first day of Kindergarten. Melissa never took shit from anyone, including Noah. 

He was so distracted by his plan to get out of the hell hole of Wolf ˈShitē, he hadn’t even realized that Melissa didn’t plan on going with him. She loved it in Wolf ˈShitē. She didn’t mind that everybody knew everybody, and that there was only one restaurant, and that all the houses kind of looked the same. Melissa loved where she grew up, and she intended to stay and grow old in the tiny town of less than 500 people.

When Noah left for UCLA, he didn’t think he would ever feel the love he had for Melissa again. But one day, Claudia stomped into his firm and demanded the best guy they had to make a plan to advertise her next gallery exhibit. 

Noah listened to her ramble about the Helvetica font for hours, and he knew that moment that he would never need to worry about finding love, 'cuz it had sat itself right in front of his desk. 

Noah honestly hadn’t thought of Melissa for at least a decade, so her call to offer condolences for their predicament was shocking to say the least. 

After Noah explained their circumstances, Melissa promised that if he and his family would return to Wolf ˈShitē, they would be taken care of, no matter what. 

How could Noah say no to that?

Noah drove slowly through the outskirts of the town, a dry riverbed winding next to the main road. In some ways, the town was beautiful. An abundance of flora and fauna living out in the boonies, and large redwoods that grew higher than he could see. Noah’s anxiety slowly starting to dissipate, he hears Claudia beginning to stir.

“Noah I’ve just had the most heinous nightmare. That bastard CFO Dinkleberg at your firm stole all of our money and the feds took my Birkin Bag right out of my beautiful manicured hands. Oh Noah, it was terrible. Wait where are we, Noah? Noah, where are we?” 

Claudia continued to ramble and seemed to finally notice they were no longer in the hazy smog of Studio City, LA. 

“Oh dear god what the fuck is that?!” Claudia’s sudden outburst had Noah slamming on the breaks in fear.

“Jesus Claude what is what? The trees? They’re called redwoods Claudia!” Noah shouted back attempting to calm his heartbeat and checking his side mirrors.

Claudia grabs Noah’s chin and turns his face to see out her window. “I mean Noah, what the fuck is that?”

Cemented into the ground on the side of the road, was a massive “Welcome to Wolf ˈShitē: Population 322” sign. And on the sign was a painting of an older man holding a rifle, standing directly behind and holding a large dog-like figure by the hips. The man was drawn with a red face and sweating, as if he were in the middle of...a vigorous activity. 

The drawing of the wolf was no better. Its body looked wolf-like, but its face was distinctly human. It was hunched with his backside in the air as if ready to be...mounted. 

“Noah, it looks like that man is having relations with that dog boy!” Claudia squinted at the sign, tilting her head side to side as if the billboard was an optical illusion that she didn’t understand. 

Noah stops looking at the “welcome” sign and lays his head forcefully on the steering wheel. He thought about how much he felt like the dog-boy in the painting. The feeling of being COMPLETELY fucked up the ass.

They finally pull up to their new dwelling, the Wolf Motel. Its VACANCY sign flashing neon red, both C’s flickering too much for comfort, making Noah blink his eyes rapidly and look away.

The parking lot is practically empty with only one car in attendance: a haphazardly parked red Subaru hatchback. The car is covered in dirt with garbage visible in all windows. It matches the motel perfectly.

Noah pulls the U-haul into what he assumes is a space in front of the main office. His legs feel stiff and practically useless. Claudia gracefully hobbles down the step of the truck’s cab, still wearing her massive heels. 

Claudia looks up at the unlit Wolf Motel sign.“So, this is where god has forsaken us, hm? A rotting motel in a town where people like to fornicate with canines.”

“I can’t speak for everyone in town, but I know at least some of us don’t partake in beastiality.” A voice responds sarcastically.

A petite redhead steps out of the office and moves toward the Stilinskis.

She’s dressed as if she’s about to attend a business casual wedding in the Hamptons. 

Long flowing hair elegantly pulled into a braid on her left shoulder, a champagne colored dress with what looks like hand stitched floral embroidery, and a pair of boots that look like they came out of Allison’s closet. 

She looked as out of place at the motel as Noah felt.

The redhead steps forward into the parking lot, mindful of her boots in the mud. “I’m Lydia Martin, the owner.” She stuck out her hand swiftly.

“Owner? I was under the impression that Lorraine was still running things.” Noah said as he met her in a handshake.

“She’s dead.” Lydia replies as she starts vigorously shaking Noah’s hand. Her face gives nothing away as to how she feels about that particular loss. 

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t heard, I’m sorry.” 

They are still shaking hands and Lydia’s speed and firm grip refuse to relent. Jesus how many “power handshake” seminars had this girl gone to?

Noah finally gets his hand back and begins lightly massaging it.

“Wow that’s, uh quite a grip you got there young lady.” Noah says, unable to come up with something more witty.

Lydia completely ignores his comment and starts back towards the office with a bored “follow me” gesture.

She walks with the confidence of the socialites in Beverly Hills and dresses the same. Noah wonders how she ended up running a piece of shit motel.

An unsure and uncomfortable Noah follows their new landlord into the main office while Claudia remains at the U-Haul swinging her phone in the air attempting to get a data signal. 

The “main office” made up of nothing more than a small desk, one stained green/blue/brown couch, and a side table with what looks like a burnt   
?coffee pot from 1982. 

“Lorraine died in the spring of this year, and I was the only available, so here I am.” It seemed like she had spouted that explanation one too many times.

Noah observes her as she walks around the front desk to the obviously never-been-updated desktop PC. Lydia avoids eye contact just like Allison, choosing to see only her screen instead.

“And how exactly did you know Lorraine? Or were you just a very lucky inhabitant of Wolf ˈShitē?” Noah asked 

“Lorraine was my grandmother. Me and my mom left when I was about 7.” Lydia responded, seemingly unbothered talking about a deceased relative.

Noah was surprised, he hadn’t thought about Lorraine in probably 25 years. She was always just the slightly eccentric older woman who ran the motel. She even lived there until her daughter Natalie was born. Lorraine claimed she loved “listening to the voices” that lived inside the walls of the motel.

“I thought Lorraine only had the one grandkid. She would always send out those Wolf ˈShitē newsletters about her “genius” grandkid going to college and apparently inventing some new number. I think her name was Erin? Ariel? Something like that.”

“I didn’t invent a new number, I found one. You can’t invent something that already exists. It’s not like Ben Franklin invented electricity, he just found that if one tied a metal key to a kite, one could harness the electric currents of a bolt of lightning.” 

Lydia’s eyes remained unfocused, glued to her computer screen, now not even touching the keyboard or mouse. She looked down sadly. Then as if her brain flipped a switch, she looked up straight into Noah’s eyes.

“My grandmother always called me Ariel. Apparently I started singing before I could talk. She’d ask me to sing for her whenever I saw her. Said that I should be careful because everyone would want to steal my voice, just like Ariel.”

She looked a bit surprised at herself, as if she didn’t mean to share something at all personal.

Lydia’s voice tapered at the end of her explanation, but her eyes and stance remained firm and confident, as if completely unwilling to face up to the memory of her grandmother.

“So now I’m the owner. Please call me Lydia, not Lyds, or Lyd, and especially not Ariel.” She quickly switched gears and began typing something into the computer.

“Now Melissa and Chris said you’ll be staying with us indefinitely, they’ve comped you 2 rooms, a King and a double twin. Does that sound right?” Lydia’s sudden hat change to motel owner/manager made Noah feel intimidated. 

He worked in corporate advertising for almost 30 years, yet he never felt more intimidated than he did right now being stared down by a 5’2 young red headed woman.

“Uh, is there any chance you’ve got any suites available?” Noah asked sincerely.

Lydia abruptly stopped typing and smirked. 

“Mr. Stilinski this is a motel not a hotel. No, we don’t have suites, no we don’t have a gym for you to walk by and think about going, and no we don’t have a concierge. Though we do have a lovely complimentary breakfast available.”

Lydia gestured behind Noah to the side table with the old moldy coffee pot, and a basket of off brand sugar packets. Her smirk persisted as she continued to stare him down.

Noah looked up and sighed while he rubbed the palms of his hands forcefully over his eyelids. When he opened them, he spotted a mysterious huge brown stain above him and it only threatened what sinister stains lurked in his new humble abode. 

“Got it. I guess we’ll just...hop to it then.” Noah quietly said to himself.

Noah made his way towards the door. “Wait.” Lydia spoke up. She rounded the desk and stopped in front of Noah, holding 4 old brass keys in front of her. 

“Two keys for each room. Don’t lose them because there is a hefty fee of $7 to replace them.” Lydia smirked again. It reminded Noah of himself at that age. A sarcastic charmer who thought they were better than everyone around them. And maybe Lydia was better than him, maybe everyone was better than him. At this point he wasn’t so sure he had ever been better than Wolf ˈShitē or anybody in it.

“If you need anything that doesn’t cost more than $10 to procure, just pop by the office. I’m the only one here from 7AM-10Pm. Any time outside of those brackets, this motel does not exist to me.” Lydia said cooly as Noah took the keys from her hands. 

Noah noticed Lydia’s nails had been completely bitten down to the nub. They looked painful.

“Good luck Mr. Stilinski. I’m sorry you ended up back in Wolf ˈShitē after you worked so hard to leave it behind.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s not as bad as I remember.” Noah said lightly to Lydia, attempting to seem collected and calm.

“Oh trust me, it’s worse. It’s not like this town has any money coming in. It’s falling apart.” 

“Well I’m sure the town’s not that far in the hole.” Noah replies, suddenly defensive of his hometown.

“Mr. Stilinski, my car is worth less than your pants.” 

Noah looks down at his suit. Maybe Armani was a bad choice for the day’s occasion.

Lydia clicks her tongue and goes back behind the desk, clearly done with this interaction. 

Noah looks at her thoughtfully, wondering how such a smart young woman ended up back in Wolf ˈShitē. Wondering how he ended up back in Wolf ˈShitē. 

He takes a breath and takes his cue to exit. He comes around the U-Haul to find Claudia standing on the back bumper with her cellphone held high in the air. 

“So Noah, do they have suites available? I need an epsom salt bath right now to get rid of the energy wafting off of this parking lot.”

Noah looked up at the sun setting beyond the horizon.

“Nope, honey, no suites. But they do have a lovely complimentary breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and Stevie would be dangerous together, don't you think? Will get to Stiles and Allison next!

**Author's Note:**

> I love Schitt's Creek, and I love Teen Wolf.


End file.
